50 minutes of Grey
by wr1tergrrrl
Summary: The Fifty Shades trilogy as told through Christian's sessions with Dr. Flynn.
1. Chapter 1

"Good to see you again."

Dr. Flynn opens every session like that, as if he's surprised that I've returned for yet another psychoanalytic workout. I can't blame him if he truly is surprised. I'm not the most compliant patient. I suppose many people show up to therapy eager to get to work, sort out their problems, get on with their life. The good doctor's hourly fee is probably incentive enough to sort your shit out in a timely manner. The fee is not problem for me.

Still I wonder if he's learned his opening line in psychology school. If there was a class titled "5 ways to open a therapeutic session." His office is warm and comfortable, yet I can't imagine spending all day inside one room. There's a nice potted plant in the corner and I stare at it briefly wondering if its real or fake. His degrees are perma-plaqued on deep mahogany hanging on the wall above his desk. In the corner, by his computer screen sits a single framed photo of his wife, Rhianna. Will I ever have a photo like that on my desk? Of Ana? Shit, Christian where are you going with this?

"Christian, you seem...distracted. Is everything alright?"

"Sorry, John. I've just, well I had an interesting couple of weeks."

"Oh" he says, in that very faux intrigued way that psychologists do.

I usually see Dr. Flynn weekly, but he's just returned from a three week vacation to visit his family in England. He sure picked the wrong time to go out of town.

"Well, I was actually wondering if I could get your opinion on something?" err someone.

"I'm all ears. That's what you pay me for" he laughs.

"I know I had mentioned before that I was conferring degrees at WSU, Vancouver."

"Yes. I remember you saying that you thought it was a bit lame, but it was a 'gotta do,' since you gave all that money to the school,"

"Well, in the same line of lame 'gotta do's' I somehow got roped into an interview for the college newspaper. Their editor was very persistent. The editor who was supposed to interview me apparently had the flu. So her roommate turned up to interview me, and well..."

I don't know what to say. That she stumbled into my office and all I could think of was tying her up in my playroom? That I had Welch find out where she worked and I flew from Seattle to Portland just so she could sell me cable ties? He'd turn me into the police...

"And well..." Dr. Flynn encourages, noticing that I've drifted off into thought.

"Well I'm hoping she'll agree to be my submissive."

"I see."

"John. You seem surprised. What were you expecting me to say."

"Well, Christian. Let me start by asking you this. When you say 'agree to be my submissive' what do you mean? Is she in the submissive community?"

"Well, er, not exactly."

"What does that mean Christian?"

"She's actually a virgin. Well she was, until last week. We actually had vanilla sex a few times. I've never done that before."

"And how was that for you."

"Surprisingly satisfying. It just didn't seem right that her first time be tied up on a grid in my playroom."

"Why do you feel that way Christian?"

"I don't know what you mean, John. I mean isn't it obvious."

"Well Christian, I think this is an important point for use to explore. We've talked about your sexual desires extensively, and you've been very consistent in maintaining that you feel there is nothing to be ashamed of. And I agree with you. Shame is not a useful emotion. And there's no reason for it when you're talking about a relationship between two consenting adults. However, despite saying that you don't feel shameful, you still keep this part of your life a closely guarded secret, which we've also discussed. However, I find it interesting that when you meet someone who is not from the community, who is inexperienced, you engage it 'vanilla sex' as you call it. Do you feel like something is wrong with what you do in your playroom?"

"John, that was a very long statement. I can't tell if there was more that one question in there."

He laughs "Well lets start with the last question. Do you feel like there is something wrong with the sex you have in your playroom?"

Absolutely not. Where is he going with this?

"No."

"Well then, Christian, let me ask you this? Why, then, did you feel like it would be inappropriate when it was her first time?"

"I don't know." I suddenly want out of here. Shit we still have twenty-five more minutes.

"I can wait while you think of an answer Christian."

"Well, I...I guess I just felt like she was so...good. I didn't want to spoil her. Make her broken, like me."

"You feel like you're broken?"

"I know that I'm broken, John. I'm fifty shades of fucked up. Oh let me count the ways I'm broken."

"Well, I'm curious, though Christian. After having quote un quote vanilla sex with this woman, why are you still hoping that she will become your submissive?"

"John, that's what I do. I don't have relationships. It's not who I am. I need control, complete control. And I'm a sadist. We've talked about this. I like to beat the shit out of little brown-haired girls because they look like the crack whore."

"Well, when you did have this vanilla sex with this woman, were you able to, how shall I say, maintain arousal?"

I laugh. "Yes John, that was not a problem."

"And along those same lines, were you able to reach orgasm?"

What the fuck is he getting at. Get me out of here. God this is uncomfortable. "Yes John. Several times. That was not a problem."

"Well, Christian. What that indicates is that you are not as dependant on your playroom as you think. Emotionally, I understand that you feel you need a degree of emotional detachment to maintain control. Because intimacy is all about giving up control. But that fact that you were able to become aroused and reach orgasm with this woman, without the playroom, indicates to me that, sexually at least, you're not as dependent on the playroom as you think."

"Well, never-the-less, John. I told her that it was a one time deal. That I don't do vanilla, I don't let women sleep in my bed."

"She slept in your bed?"

"Yes."

"And how was that?"

"I slept well actually. No night terrors."

Dr. Flynn pauses for a minute. It's an awkward silence. I know what he's trying to do. He's hoping if he just shuts up, I'll keep talking. Spill my guts. I'm not playing this game. I keep my eyes focused, staring him down. Two can play at this game John.

"Well tell me a little about this girl Christian. What's her name?"

"Anastasia..." I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. I love how every part of her roles off my tongue. Shit Christian, stop it. What are you doing...

"That's a very pretty name."

"Yes it is." I'm done. This has already been more revealing that I wanted. Flynn's not getting more out of me.

"Well Christian, we're almost out of time. But over the next week, I'd like you to think about a few things. I know you don't do homework, and I won't ask you to do any. But I'd just like to leave you with some questions to think about. We're doing solution focused brief therapy. The purpose is to asses your goals and do the work necessary to get you to those goals. In the past you've wanted a certain kind of sexual and interpersonal relationship, and you've sought out women who wanted the same type of relationship. So regardless of why you wanted this relationship, what traumas in your past drove you to seek these types of relationships, it was not a problem. But now you've met someone who did not actively seek out this type of relationship, and you are hesitant to impose it on her. Yet something in you still wants to be involved with this woman. So I'd like you to think about whether you might be willing to explore a different type of relationship. If your goal is to be in a relationship with...Anastasia, and to achieve that goal, you might have to change the way things have always been. I want you just think about that. Think about what you'd be willing to negotiate, if you had to, to achieve the type of intimacy that's fulfilling to you and to Anastasia. Just think about that over the next week."

"Will do John."

"Okay, well we're out of time. Now, don't forget, I will be out of town at a conference until next Monday. But if anything urgent comes up, you have the number for my messaging service."

"O.k. John. Laters."


	2. Chapter 2

"Good to see you again."

"John, I think we need to come up with a better way for you to open our sessions. I doubt that its actually that good to see me again." I chuckle, but Flynn doesn't seem as amused.

"Why do you feel that way Christian?"

Oh great. I was just kidding him. Now he's going to use this as some inroad into a discussion about my self-loathing.

"I'm just teasing John. We actually don't need to get into my self-loathing. I'm feeling pretty good about myself today."

"I noticed you seemed jovial when you walked through the door today. Things are going well with Anastasia I take it?"

"Very well. She's actually visiting her mother in Georgia right now. I'm leaving right after this appointment to surprise her."

I can't help but hide my delight. I've missed Ana. And its only been a day and a half since she left, but felt so much longer. Is this what love is? I don't want to fall in love, but for the first time since Ana fell into my office I feel resigned to the fact that falling in love might not be within my control. The idea scares me terribly.

"So does that mean that you're going to meet her mother?" John brings me back from my drifting thoughts.

"I hope so. She's met mine, and I've met her dad."

"Well Christian. This seems like a huge change of direction for you. So I take it this means that you are no longer hoping she will agree to be your submissive?"

It terrifies me to even think about Ana not agreeing to our arrangement.

"Oh no, John- she's considering. I think she's going to say yes. I told her to keep thinking about signing the paperwork while she's in Georgia and then when she gets back she can sign on the dotted line and we can really get started."

John stares for a moment, looking puzzled. "I'm sorry Christian, but I'm a little confused. When you say get started, it just seems to me that, this relationship, well, has already started. In my professional experience its a bit hard to un ring a bell."

"Well, John, you'll be happy to know, that I've told her I might be open to 'more.'"

"What does _more_ mean to you, Christian?"

"Well I was thinking, normally I have my submissive over Friday night through Sunday evening. So I told her, and I think she's open to this, that maybe Wednesday nights we could just be together. No rules."

John laughs, and suddenly I feel like I'm sitting in quicksand. I thought therapists weren't supposed to make you feel embarrassed. I thought this was supposed to be a "safe space," a no judgement zone. I want this over stuffed pleather couch to swallow me up whole. Or maybe I could just disappear into the wood paneled walls...

"I'm sorry Christian, I shouldn't laugh. But it's just, do you think that arrangement is reasonable? Try to put yourself in Anastasia's shoes for a moment. How do you think this whole proposal sounds to her?"

"Well John, this might surprise you, but I think Ana might actually be more into what I have to offer that you, or she even, really knows."

"And why do you say that, Christian?"

"She let me spank her. Twice. And let's just say it seemed to be satisfying, for both of us."

Memories of Sunday night come flooding back into my mind. Ana, Ana, Ana. Everywhere. Ana in the playroom. Ana in the boathouse. Ana over my knee. Ana in my bed. Ana is all I want. All I've ever wanted. I never knew it, but she's everything. Fuck...Christian you have to control yourself.

"Christian. Normally in therapy the goal is for the patient to reach moments of insight on his or her own. A good therapist pokes and prods the patient in the right direction, but the breakthroughs need to come from the patient. So I'm hesitant to help you along too much here, but then again, this is SFBT, although you've rendered the "brief" aspect of this a moot point. Regardless, Christian, what I'm trying to tell you is that just because Ana enjoyed your spanking her, that doesn't necessarily mean she's secretly wants to be your submissive?"

"I'm not following." And I'm not. Honestly, when Flynn goes off on those long speeches, I tune out. He lost me at "a good therapist."

"New research actually reveals, that some sort of quote un qoute, kinkiness, is the norm rather than the exception. That's not to say that the more extreme practices of BDSM are common. They're not. And certainly, most people don't have a playroom and consume sex toys and apparatuses with as much enthusiasm as you do. However, it its not rare for someone to be intrigued, titillated, or even aroused by some spanking."

"Oh?"

"There's actually a very biological explanation for it. Dopamine is a chemical in your brain that 's involved in both the response to sexual pleasure and one's response to pain. What I'm getting at Christian, is just to caution you not to confuse the sexual act with the relationship dynamic. At least some of what you're hoping Ana will do with you, sexually, is not that rare or unreasonable. But what is a bit more, shall we say, exotic, is creating a relationship based solely around an articulated and immobile dynamic of power. I just want you to ponder that when you go visit her in Georgia. But if you don't mind, I was wondering if we could come back to something we discussed last time?"

"Of course John."

"We were discussing how Ana was a virgin, and you just didn't feel like it was right for her to lose her virginity in your playroom, tied up on the cross. However, it occurred to me that was actually how you lost your virginity."

I was hoping John wouldn't go there. After our session last week, I thought about this too. I'd just hoped that John would let it go. Uninvited memories of me at 15 rush back into my head, tending the yard at Elena's. She was so pretty, confident and sexy, and she wanted to control me. But more than that she wanted to protect me. She slapped me, and kissed me hard, and suddenly I felt like that little four-year-old boy again, who's mother would not, and could not step in and protect him, me, from that god awful excuse of a man. But this time I felt protected. Even though Elena wanted to beat the shit out of me, somehow I felt safe, for the first time in my life.

"I think we know that there are reasons why that type of interaction was acceptable to me, John."

"Of course, Christian. But I guess what I'm wondering is if you have feelings of regret. That perhaps, in a more perfect world, your first time would have been in a more conventional, 'vanilla' relationship as well."

"I regret that the woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, and pathetic excuse for a human being. That's my only regret. Elena helped me. She loved me in a way that didn't threaten me. Even though she inflicted pain on me, I knew she wouldn't hurt me. I don't know if that makes any sense."

"I think it makes perfect sense. Christian. Especially your point about the difference between inflicting pain and hurting. I just wonder if you've ever thought Ana might be worrying about the same thing."

"What do you mean."

"Do you think Ana is worried that you might do more than just inflict pain on her. By making herself vulnerable to you, do you think she's worried that you could really hurt her?"

"To hurt someone you need power. And John, I am completely powerless in this relationship. Ana has bewitched me. She calls me by my first name, and I like it. She's met my family, and they like her. And I like that they like her. I'm stripped completely bare. The only person who could get hurt here is me."

John sits quietly for a moment as my words drift in the air like incense. The sun filters in through Dr. Flynn's picture windows. Its a beautiful summer day in Seattle.

"Well Christian, we're about out of time. I'm glad things seem to be moving in the right direction. I hope you have a great trip to Georgia. Over the next week, why don't you think about what your goals are for this relationship. Think really hard about what you want. What would be your ideal. Perhaps next week we can start focusing on the steps to take to help you achieve those goals."

"Sounds like a plan John. Until next week."

"By Christian."


	3. Chapter 3

"You have reached the confidential voice mailbox for John Flynn. If this is a medical emergency, please call 911 or go to the nearest emergency room. Please leave your name, phone number and a brief message and I will return your phone call as soon as possible. Have a great day."

"John, this is Christian. Christian Grey. I have an emergency. Not for me, I'm fine. But an ex-, uh, a friend of mine is having a mental health emergency and I'm trying to find help for her. Please call me back as soon as possible. I'm flying back from Georgia but should be in Seattle this evening. I will look for your call."

* * *  
"Grey."

"Christian? Its John Flynn. I received your message. How can I help."

"John, an ex of mine is having a breakdown. She turned up at my apartment and made a scene in front of my housekeeper. She attempted to slit her wrist. My housekeeper took her to Seattle General, but they released her. Now she's gone missing."

"Is this an ex-partner Christian?"

"Yes. An ex-submissive. She's married now, but she ran out on her husband. I don't know what happened to her. Why she's had this breakdown."

"Well Christian, there's not a lot I can do until you find her. Have you contacted the police?"

"No I don't want them involved. I have my people working on finding her. But she'll need inpatient care once we find her..."

"Christian, I can't have someone committed who isn't even my patient. If she doesn't want to be committed...its a very high legal standard."

"She will comply once I find her. She's from Connecticut. Can you find an inpatient facility either in Connecticut or New York. She needs to be near family."

"I will, Christian. I will do what I can."

"John?"

"Yes, Christian."

"I can't have this interfering with Ana."

"I will do what I can."


	4. Chapter 4

"You've reached the confidential voice mailbox for John Flynn. If this is a medical emergency, please call 911 or go to the nearest emergency room. Please leave your name, phone number and a brief message and I will return your phone call as soon as possible. Have a great day."

"John, it's Christian. I know it's Sunday, but I need to see you. I'm not well. I'm in a really bad space. It's Ana...she left me. Could you see me tonight? I can come to your office around 6? Or would it be possible to squeeze me in tomorrow morning. I have a meeting at 9, but I can be at your office at 7:30, if that works. Thanks, John.

***  
It's seven thirty in the morning. Too early for Lydia to be at the reception desk. John has left the door to his office slightly ajar and I can see the arm of his green couch peering out.

I barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes and started to nod off the nightmares came back with a fierceness I haven't known since last month. Since I met Ana.

"Christian? Come on in." John pokes his head through the door and ushers me in. "Have a seat."

"John, it's all over. I ruined it. I ruined all of it." My legs buckle as I try to sit on the couch. I feel the cold dryness of my palms press against my eyes, swollen from two nights with little sleep. I start to rock gently, my head in my hands.

"Well why don't we start at the beginning Christian. Tell me what happened."

**"Show me" she says, barely audible.** "Show you?" I'm so confused. She just said punishment makes her feel the way I feel about her touching my chest. An now she's asking me to show her. I just don't know with her. I know she liked it when I spanked her, especially the second time. Even, if she doesn't know it yet. I _know _she liked it. I just don't understand.

"Show me how much it can hurt," she says.

"What?"

"Punish me. I want to know how bad it can get."

"You would try?"

"Yes. I said I would." She bites down on her lower lip. I know she's not even aware of it. "Ana you're so confusing."

"I'm confused, too. I'm trying to work this out. And you and I will know, once and for all, if I can do this. If I can handle this, then maybe you-"

_If I could go back in time and yell cut, this is where I would stop the scene. "Ana," I'd say. "You don't want to see how bad it can get, baby. I want to hurt you. But not more than you can take. But I don't know what you can take yet. We need to communicate with each other and I don't know you enough yet." No, wait. I wouldn't say that. I'd say "Ana. If you don't want to be punished, I won't punish you. I want you anyway I can have you." Fuck, Christian, you such a fucking idiot. _

I taste the bitterness of adrenalin in my mouth. My hand reaches out and grasps her arm, but I stare at my hand like it belongs to someone else. Suddenly we're heading out of the great room, up the stairs. My legs are moving, but not at the behest of my brain. Some other force is moving my feet, one step after the other.

"I'll show you how bad it can be, and you can make your own mind up. Are you ready for this?"

Somehow, my head is clear enough to remember that canes are a hard limit. I reach for the belt. "Bend over the bench." I watch the silky sheen of Ana's bathrobe ripple over her behind as she bends down. For a moment, she's no longer the girl whom I wrap myself around to go to sleep at night, whose legs I entwine mine, whose hair I bury my nose in and inhale her intoxicating scent. I could be looking at Susanna or Leila. In this moment I can't tell the difference.

"We're here because you said yes, Anastasia. And you ran from me. I am going to hit you six times, and you will count with me."

I lift the hem of her robe. Such beautiful pale, flawless skin. I salivate with the anticipation of seeing red welts rise to the surface.

"I'm doing this so that you remember not to run from me, and as exciting as it is, I never want you to run from me. And you roll your eyes at me. You know how I feel about that."

My arm levitates, and I feel my muscles contract and my feet brace against the edge of the bench, as I place my hand on her back, holding her in place.

One.

"Count, Anastasia!"

"One." She cries. "Two."

I'm really getting into it now, using not just my arm muscles but my thighs and back. I'm panting, and gritting my teeth at the same time. A groan releases from the base of my throat. God this feels so good.

"Three!" I think I hear a trace of tears in her whimper, but I'm not sure. My senses are heightened, and I can hardly make out her voice over the ticking clock and the whooshing sound of the belt cutting through air.

"Four." She's definitely crying now.

"Five." God I am turned on. I can't wait to flip her over and take her. All of her. Finally she's really mine.

"Six." I drop the belt, collapse to my knees and reach for her. "Let go... no … Don't touch me." As soon as she turns around I see her face, and I know.

**"Christian? Christian!" John says forcefully.** I startle. "Christian, tell me what happened."

"I hurt her John. Really hurt her. I told her I wanted to punish her, and she said that punishment for her feels like when someone touches my chest. It broke my heart. But then suddenly she asked my to show her how bad it could get. And I was so confused. I didn't know what she wanted. But I did it anyway..."

"Did what, Christian?"

"I spanked her with a belt John. It was too much for her. I'm such a fucking idiot..."

John stares at me like I just said I had eggs for breakfast. Is this another thing they teach you in psychology school? How to look completely unfazed when a patient reveals some horrid detail of their life. I contemplate making up some completely bizarre detail to test this theory. Maybe that I decided to adopt a pet elephant?

"How do you feel about this Christian?"

How do I feel? John I called you on Sunday evening begging for an emergency appointment is this the best you can do? Are you really a doctor...

"How do I feel? How do I fucking feel?" Without warning I start shouting, and for a moment I remember that John's receptionist will be in at eight thirty and I have a half hour more to yell.

"How do I feel?" I'm now standing at the window. At some point I got off the couch but I don't know how. My hands hurt and I realize they are balled into tight fists. I shake them. "I feel embarrassed, ashamed, sad, scared..."

"Let's start with embarrassed. Why embarrassed?"

"I was so scared of showing Ana the real me. I knew once she saw how I really was, she'd run. I tried to peel the onion for her carefully. But when I was spanking her, I...I felt vulnerable. I'm not used to that. That's the reason why I like to have relationships that way that I do. So I don't have to feel vulnerable. So when she turned around after I spanked her, it was a shock to feel ashamed of what I just did to her. And her eyes...I could see the hurt I caused, and I knew that she knew. She knew the real me, and she hated me."

"And ashamed? Why do you feel ashamed Christian?"

God, can't he give me a break. I need a breather...

"I feel ashamed because I never wanted to hurt Anastasia. And I could tell by the look in her eyes that it wasn't just her rear end that I hurt. She was scared of me. I never wanted her to be scared of me..."

"And well, sad, I think we've covered that. But why scared? Why do you feel scared Christian?"

"I don't know. I have nothing to compare it to, except when my mother died and I was left with her cold body. All I could do was wonder if anyone would come for me, or if I would just die waiting."

"So Ana walking out on you brought back the feelings of abandonment you felt as a child?"

I don't want to go here. But, suddenly I realize I will do anything to change this. Yes, I will do whatever John tells me. I'm all in. Let's do this Grey. My bottom lip starts to quiver, and I can feel a well of tears rising in my throat. I inhale sharply to stifle my cries.

"Come sit back down, Christian." I turn around and see John motioning to the couch. I didn't realized I had been standing this whole time. "Tell me more about this feeling of abandonment."

"The night we spent together in Georgia, I was laying in bed watching Ana sleep, I love to watch her sleep, and she started muttering. I thought she was awake, but then she said something about strawberries and I realized she was talking in her sleep. And then she said... She said she'd never leave. It was the most comforting feeling I have ever felt. And now she's left, and I hate myself, because I caused it. I'm the one who caused all of this."

"Often in life, Christian, we recreate relationships from our past, despite how hurtful they were...

John pauses, and I can tell he's waiting to see if I want to say anything else. There's nothing left to say.

"Well, Christian. What do you want to do about this?"

Huh..

"What do you mean John?"

"Do you want to get Ana back?"

"John. Ana won't come back. She's gone. Its over."

"Christian, you don't know that. Although it sounds like you can't have a relationship with Ana that structured around a dominant/submissive power dynamic. So what's more important to you? The relationship with Ana, or being a Dominant? Because we need to pick a goal and come up with a plan for you to achieve that goal. So what's it going to be?

I feel like such an idiot. It never occurred to me that I couldn't have both Ana and a submissive. I think back to the morning before she left me, sitting at my piano. Her head on my shoulder, and me languidly pressing the keys. I had everything I wanted in that moment. I didn't need the playroom. I just needed Ana, next to me. And yet, like an idiot I ran to my study and still got that fucking list of rules. I knew Ana didn't want the rules. Why the hell did I want them. The last month has been...perfection. Why did I need to change it?

Can I do this, though? Then, suddenly I realize that the worst has already happened. Everything I feared would happen if I didn't have my stupid rules already came to fruition. Ana abandoned me. I feel like shit.

"Ana. I want Ana. Its going to be Ana."

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been following this story. I've had a great time writing it and seeing the responses. I'm going to take some time and plot out the sessions for Fifty Shades Darker. So stay tuned for more John and more Christian!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, Well, you look much better than the last time I saw you."

I saunter into Dr. Flynn's office and relax into this lovely pleather couch of his. Everything is lovely. I feel like I'm floating. I've felt this way ever since I dropped Ana off at her apartment last night. Of course I wanted to bring her back to Escala and wrap her now-too-thin body in my arms, hold her against my chest and drift off to sleep. But all in good time.

"Ana and I are back together," I smile. My cheeks are sore from smiling. I don't know what's happened to me. I feel like my whole worldview changed. Missing Ana, it was just...I never want to feel like that again. When she's with me I feel...I think I feel... loved. Shit, calm down Grey.

"Well, tell me Christian. How'd you get her back?" John says in an almost sing-song way, like we're two teenagers talking about summer crushes at camp. For a moment, I think his interest is disingenuous, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. It's always been hard for me to trust therapists. After my mom...when the police found me, they took me to the hospital. That was when I first saw Grace. She looked like an angel. But then they took me to this room, and this woman came in. She smelled funny, like cabbage soup. And she kept talking to me with these dolls. She was so...old.

Then there was Thom, the strict Freudian. I had to lie on this couch, I couldn't even see him. I was supposed to just talk and talk. It was so stupid. Grace told me about John. She said he focuses on the future. I don't know, I still don't totally trust him...

"After I left here Monday morning, I got to thinking. I needed to fight for Ana. I felt so terrible, so broken. When I got to the office I sent her flowers, first. And then, we had had plans to go to this photography exhibit on Thursday. Her friend was exhibiting some of his work" I can't hide my scowl at the thought of Jose. "Anyway, so I e-mailed her on Wednesday and told her I'd still like to take her, if she was interested...and well she said yes!" I can feel the soreness in my cheeks again. I'm grinning. I can't even stop it, its like a pavlovian response.

"Well Christian, that's great. I'm really happy for you. So what is the arrangement between you two?"

"No rules John. None. No Dom/sub thing. Nothing, nada, zilch." John starts to look a bit concerned, and I realize I might be acting a bit manic. Shit, are my hands fidgeting. I take a deep breath and try to slow down. I don't want to scare John.

"How does that make you feel?" John asks in that low, monotone psychotherapists cadence. The classic therapist question, but, of course,there's a reason it's a cliché. My racing train of thought stops in its tracks. Feel? I don't know how I feel yet?

"I don't know how I feel yet." Well at least I'm honest. But John just sits in silence. I know he's not going to budge. "I feel hopeful."

"Hopeful?" John encourages.

"For the first time in my life I find myself daydreaming about the future. About me and Ana, and my mind drifts to places that I can't even control it going. I don't want to daydream the way I do, because I don't want to feel the hurt I felt when Ana left. I just never thought, all the hearts and flowers stuff would be in my future. But I can't help it. When I'm in a meeting, or jogging with Claude, or playing the piano, suddenly I find my mind has drifted to thoughts of the future. and I can't help but hope..."

I can't look at John as I'm talking. It's just too embarrassing.

"Christian I'd like to try something. This is a pretty classic SFBT technique, and well, you've kind of broken the mold when it comes to brief therapy, but I think this will be useful."

"OoooKaaay." I raise one eyebrow, looking at John skeptically. I'm not so sure about this.

"Now just sit comfortably Christian. Close your eyes. I am going to ask you a rather strange question" He pauses for what feels like eternity. "The strange question is this: After we talk, you will go back to your work and you will do whatever you need to do the rest of today. You will go to sleep and in the middle of the night, a miracle happens and the problem that prompted you to talk to me, all of your history and pain, is wiped away. But because this happens while you are sleeping, you have no way of knowing that there was an overnight miracle that solved the problem." He pauses again, as I absorb this bizarre prompt. "So, when you wake up tomorrow morning, suddenly you have everything you've ever wanted with Ana. Now, tell me Christian, what would that look like?"

I raise one eyelid and peek at John. "Eyes closed Christian. It helps you focus."

"But this feels so stupid, John!"

"What does it look like?"

I sit with my head tilted back, eyes closed. I can barely get over how ridiculous this exercise is, but John just does not give up. From the recess of my consciousness an idea populates my brain. It's so vivid, like watching it in high-definition.

"Ana and I are driving in my car. She's giggling. I love her giggle. She looks relaxed and happy, like she did in these photos her friend took. The car windows are open and her hair is blowing into her face. But she doesn't seem to care. She just laughing..."

"Very good, Christian. What else do you see?"

"We're driving up a tree-lined street, through a wooded area. We pull up to this beautiful house. There's this one I've always liked to look at when I sail up the coast. We pull into the driveway. It's our house, we live there." I open my eyes, feeling like I just came out of some hypnotic trance.

"It's just an idea.." I murmur.

"It's a great idea, Christian." John pauses, giving me a moment to absorb this tranquility that's set in. Ana, the meadow, that house. I feel my heart expand and my shoulder relax.

"What steps do you think you'd need to take to make that vision a reality?"

"I don't know John." I sit for a moment, hoping John will jump in, but he doesn't. The silence is so uncomfortable.

"I'm a sadist John. And Ana, doesn't like to do the things I like."

"So you don't enjoy your time with her, when she's not letting you inflict pain on her?" John asks like it a rhetorical question.

"Of course not, but it's just..."

"Christian. We've discussed this before. Sadism isn't a recognized psychiatric term. Your sexual sadism isn't a disease, it's a lifestyle choice. And you can choose differently. You always think the worst of yourself. Needs change, and judging by the way you looked in here on Monday, you need Ana a lot more than you need some brunette who's willing to let you flog her."

I avert my eyes to the floor. Why do I feel like I just got a verbal smack down? "You're right." I mutter like a petulant teenager.

"So let me ask you again, Christian. What actions do you need to take to make that vision, you so beautifully described, a reality?"

"I think...I mean...I think I need to have empathy. I just, I don't want to hurt Ana. I hate when I hurt her. I think if maybe I could see things from behind her eyes, maybe I could know when I was going to hurt her, and not do it."

"I think that's a really important step Christian. Really important."

"I just don't know if I can be that. I don't know if I'm that person."

"Christian, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you're not that unique." I startle. That came out of nowhere. I see John chuckle at my reaction. "I mean in the empathy department. Empathy is a very natural human emotion, and with time and a little practice I have no doubt you can develop great empathy. Nothing about you in the time I've known you has indicated to me that you're a sociopath."

"That's the best you can do? At least I'm not Jeffrey fucking Dahmer?" I don't know about this Flynn guy.

"That's as good as it gets Christian. There are no guarantees in this life. And that is my professional opinion." He smiles, with a look that says our time is up.

I take another deep breath. This session has been taxing. My eyes dart around the room and land on the picture of John and his wife next to the window. They look like they're on vacation, a happy couple, standing on the beach. Maybe they're in Maui, or Cancun. I remember the lyrics to that Nelly Furtado song- the one I put on Ana's iPad. God, I hope she understands what I'm trying to say.

_As I say goodbye to the way of life_

_I thought I had designed for me_

_Then I see you standing there_

_Wanting more from me_

_And all I can do is try_

All I can do is try Ana. I'll try...


	6. Chapter 6

It's 12:05 on Monday, and my appointment with Flynn was at noon sharp. I hate being late. I'm never late. All of this e-mail sparring with Ana over this New York trip with that boss of her's has wound me tighter than a golf ball. A kickboxing session with Claude would be much more useful at this point.

"Good afternoon Christian. Good to see you."

"John." My voice is clipped, as I sulk into the couch. This is such an ugly couch. You'd think with what I pay John he could afford real leather.

"Christian, you seem very tense. I thought you would be floating in here again after seeing you and Ana together Saturday night. You two looked very happy with each other. Of course, that is from what I could see under the masks." Flynn says with a smirk.

I'd nearly forgotten that John met Ana at my parent's party. Saturday night seems so long ago. That was before Leila broke into my apartment, before I told Ana I loved her, before...my billiard table. The memory makes me smile and changes my whole mood. I hadn't realized my face was locked in a scowl the entire morning.

"We are John. It's just, things are complicated."

"When is life not complicated Christian?" Dr. Flynn says with a laugh that hints that he's speaking from experience. "Let's try to uncomplicate it bit by bit. What are some of the problems."

"Well, first: the situation with Leila has gotten much more serious. She tracked down Ana, and snuck into my apartment, and now she's apparently obtained a concealed weapons permit."

"Christian. Don't you think it's time you got the police involved." John admonishes.

"No." I say in a tone more aggressive than intended. "I'm sorry John. I didn't mean to snap."

"Christian, can I ask you a question. What is it about Leila that makes you feel you need to protect her?"

I don't know why I feel the need to protect Leila. Well, maybe I have an inkling. Leila was like looking into a mirror. Her broken soul reflected my broken soul back to me. She was always so lively, and creative, always bringing me paintings and putting songs on my ipod. She wanted more, and the truth is, I did care for Leila. But I already had so much pain, I couldn't let anymore inside. I couldn't take on someone else's fifty shades.

"I guess I just feel like there but for the grace of god. After Leila and I ended our partnership, she married this guy. And I guess she ran out on him, with someone who was killed in a car accident four weeks ago. I just, sometimes I think I could have been that broken person wandering around Seattle with a gun."

"I see." John says. "Christian, I understand your point of view. I do. I just hope you realize that there has to be a point where you alert the authorities." I let his words hang in the air. I know that this can't go on forever. "So aside from ex-submissive running loose in Seattle, how is everything else going?"

I breath a sigh of quiet relief when John changes the subject. This past weekend has been some of the best days of my life. It finally started to sink it that we're together, and the feeling is just a calm, secure, happy feeling that I've never felt before. Despite our most recent email tete-a-tete, which I know I will be able to fix once Ana gets home.

"Truthfully, John, things are wonderful. Despite all of the stress with Leila. I think before...before Ana left me, I always had this feeling that we were on shaky ground. It was like a quagmire, because I was always wondering if she'd agree to be my sub. I felt like I was auditioning. But now..."

My mind travels back to Friday night. I will remember Friday night as one of the best nights of my entire life. Of course the sex was, well...spectacular. Feeling Ana's body around me again, holding her, burying my nose in her hair.

"I don't know John. I don't know how to explain it. I have to give an example. Friday night was...well it was the happiest night I've had in a long time. And it was completely mundane. I picked Ana up from work, and we went to the grocery store, she cooked food. We had sex, which was great. But the best part was just sitting on her living room rug, eating stir-fry. It was so..."

"Intimate?" John says, finishing my sentence. It's a relief.

"Yes. Exactly."

"And how does that make you feel?" John asks. Seriously, I hate this question.

"I feel, relaxed. In a way...how do I explain this. In my previous relationships, there was always an element of role playing. I always felt like I was putting on a costume, getting in character. Which of course, is why I had those relationships in the first place. Because it allowed me to escape into a character I had created for myself. And that was in a way its own type of stress relief. It protected me from the stress of my own mind. But in its own way, being the character, being the Dom was stressful too. Especially, when I met Ana, because I was constantly worrying if I was playing the character right. If my audience, if you will, approved."

"I think that makes perfect sense Christian."

"So Friday night, just sitting eating dinner with Ana. Well, it was the most, present I'd felt with a woman, well, ever. And I feel like I'm actually learning about Ana too."

"I was going to ask Christian. I know we talked about empathy last time. I was going to ask if you'd made any progress in learning about Ana's emotional life?" Flynn asks in a steady tone that coaxes me to reveal more.

I think back to sitting on the rug with Ana, listening her talk about her mom's many boyfriends and taking care of Ray. I know what that's like to feel like you're not the most important person in your mother's life. I want to take care of her. Make her see that she's the most important person in my life.

"It's funny John. When I met Ana, she told me she liked Thomas Hardy. So I bought her a first edition volume of Tess of the D'urbervilles. Then I come to find out that she was actually studying Tess for one of her classes in college. Anyways, I've been re-reading Tess, at night before I go to bed, just to try to get a better idea of Ana. What she likes, what speaks to her.

"How very literary of you Christian," John smirks.

"Last week after our session I remembered this quote: 'Tess was no insignificant creature to toy with and dismiss; but a woman living her precious life-a life which, to herself who endured or enjoyed it, possessed as great a dimension as the life of the mightiest to himself.' I don't know maybe that kind of sums up empathy. Recognizing that someone else is experiencing life with all the emotions and fears that you are.

"Well Christian, I think that's a very interesting quote. And a very good observation. Still I don't know if you want to model your relationship on Tess of the D'urbervilles." He laughs and so do I.

"Yeah, talk about a woman that was destroyed by sex." And then suddenly it hits me...that's the ultimate fear. Isn't that what everyone is scared of. "You know, I always kind of saw myself as Alec. And then, I started to think about if I could be Angel Clare. But I guess in the end neither one worked out so well for Tess."

"No" John laughs. "No I don't think so."

"Its funny, John. When I first read that book, I was fifteen. It was my sophomore year in high school, right around the time I started seeing Elena." I shake my head at the memory. I'm too mad at Elena at the moment, to go back to my seduction at fifteen. Right now, my anger is making me resentful of her and I don't want those feelings to cloud the memory of what we had together.

"If you were to be the author of your own story, Christian, tell me, what kind of book would you write?"

"Huh?" I don't really get this question.

"If you were to write your own story. What would it be like? What would the theme be?" John speaks slowly and loudly. But hearing him wasn't the issue.

"I don't know." I've never really thought about this before. "Well, hopefully it wouldn't be some dumb BDSM erotica." I laugh nervously.

"Well Christian, we're about out of time for today. But just to give you some things to think about over the next week. Sometimes thinking about one's life like this, like its a story that you are actively authoring, rather than passively living, it can help you focus on goals."

"I don' know John, I guess my story...it would be a story about redemption."


	7. Chapter 7

"Christian, come on in." I hear John's disembodied voice call from behind his office door, left open a crack so he can hear who's coming and who's going. Lydia must be out sick today. It's eleven in the morning, not my usual appointment time, but after last night's excitement with Leila I practically begged John to fit me into his schedule. I thought we'd have a lot to discuss. Little did I know that we'd have more to deconstruct than just the Leila fiasco.

"I told Ana I'm a sadist, and I asked her to marry me and she wants to see you." I say like I have Tourrette's, and plop down on the couch with a definitive thud. John looks stoic, and if he asks me how this makes me feel I'm just going to get up and leave. John's face is unreadable.

"Sorry, John. Did you not hear me?" I say, giving him a sardonic smile.

"Oh no Christian, I heard you. I'm just digesting this. I think you need to give me some context, because the last time I saw you, we were in an ambulance taking an ex-partner of yours to a psychiatric facility. So let's back up, and start from the very beginning."

"A very good place to start." John laughs, not expecting me to quote The Sound of Music. In between Bach and Chopin, Miss Kathy loved to teach me to play show tunes. "Ok. The beginning."

I close my eyes and for a second I'm transported back to last night. I remember Ana touching my chest, and wince. "When I got home from the hospital, Ana wasn't there. I was so scared, and I had Taylor go out and search for her. I was so worried she'd run, that she'd leave me. Then she walked through the door. She was so angry. Angry about Leila, angry about me. She started saying things again like, 'I can't be everything you need,' but this time something in me recognized that Ana was feeling insecure and scared too. I saw in her eyes her fear. She told me that when she saw me with Leila, well I think she felt threatened. Inadequate. And I felt her feelings."

"So I see our work on empathy has started to pay off," John says looking pleased with himself.

"I felt like I knew what Ana was feeling, her fear of not being enough, because I've felt like that since I met Ana. Hell, I think I felt like that my whole life. I think I've always worried I wasn't enough for my family. I think its partly why I've worked so hard to make myself a success in business. I've always worried that I wasn't enough." Warm tears well into my eyes. I won't let myself cry. I remember Ana, and me, kneeling like two idiots on the hardwood floor. We must have looked so silly. But Ana looked beautiful, as always. I just don't know why she can't realize how beautiful she is.

"I think that's wonderful Christian. It's really amazing progress, in such a short time, to be able to see past your own fears of abandonment and recognize Ana's fears," John says. He looks a bit stunned. I guess I am too. "So how did you end up telling her you are a sadist? I disagree with your characterization of yourself as a sadist by the way, but we can discuss that after you finish the story," he smiles.

"Ana finally really honestly expressed to me her feelings of inadequacy. I still don't understand. I think Ana's the most beautiful, smart, sexy, funny and brave person I've ever met. I just don't get why she doesn't see that in herself. But I think even though I've told her that she's more than enough, that I want her just the way she is, I think she still worries that because she can't be my submissive, that she's not enough. And that's really my fault, because I didn't realize that I actually never cared that much about Ana being my submissive. I made such a big deal about it in the beginning, because it was all I knew. But I always just wanted Ana, to be near her anyway I could."

I realize I'm rambling without a point. What was John's question? Oh yes, how did I tell Ana about my sadism.

"So anyways, I realized I had to do something to really show Ana that she's different than Leila and all my other subs. I've told her so many times that what I feel for her is so much different, and so much more than anything I've ever felt for anyone else. But I had to show her. And I needed to show myself that I could really let her in. So I let her touch me..."

"Your chest?" John looks shocked.

"Yes," I breath remembering her delicate fingers brushing down my sternum, her eyes locked with mine. Her hand on my chest, feeling like a hot iron, searing pain. I can feel her soft lips against my scars. Truthfully, even after I placed her hand on my chest I was not prepared for her to kiss me...there. Kissing my scars, it was like she was taking the physical marking of my past, the painful reminders of my unworthiness, and telling me she loved even that part of me.

"Ana was so gentle, so accepting. And I felt like if Ana could love that part of me, the physical reflection of rejection from the woman who gave me life, I thought maybe, just maybe, she would love all of me. And I told her. I told her everything."

"What exactly did you tell her?"

"I told her I'm a sadist. That I like to whip little brown-haired girls because they look like the crack whore."

"And how did that feel, to tell her that?" John asks pensively.

"It felt cathartic. I had been playing the scene in my head for so long. What would I say, how would I say it. So when I finally just said it, it quieted that voice in my head. It had become unbearable."

"I can imagine. And how did Ana react?" John asks slowly and carefully, as if he's trying to work this out in his head too.

"She didn't leave," I smile victoriously. "She's finding it hard to believe that I could just lose the compulsion overnight. I think that's why she wants to talk to you. She needs some reassurance."

"And so how did you end up proposing marriage?" John looks perplexed.

"When Ana didn't leave, I realized I didn't want her to ever leave. Ever." As I say it I hear myself sounding creepily possessive. I need to explain this better. "I want to spend the rest of my life with Ana. I've never been more certain about anything in my life. I want the house on the coast, I wan't Ana laughing with her hair blowing in the wind." Shit, Flynn's little exercise really did help me focus on what I wanted. I guess he's pretty good at this. "Do you think it's too soon?"

I will be crushed if Flynn isn't supportive of this. A smile slowly creeps across John's face and I relax. He's not going to scold me.

"Christian, this has all moved very fast. But I don't think there's any textbook for a marriage. Fifty percent of marriages fail and we don't know why. To a certain extent, in relationships, we're all flying blind. I think you and Ana have something very special, and if you think you two can make a go of it, I'm more than supportive and happy for you."

I feel my throat tighten and emotion well up the back of my throat. I don't know why John's support means so much, but it does.

"So did Ana say yes?" John raises one eyebrow.

"She didn't say no." I feel a pang of fear in the pit of my stomach. If Ana says no, I don't know what I will do."I think that's why she wants to talk to you. Will you see her?"

"Of course Christian. As long as its ok with you, I have no problem seeing Ana. I'd be happy to. I can fit you in tomorrow evening."

"Thank you John." I'm so relieved, and grateful.

"So we didn't really get a chance to discuss what I thought we would discuss today," John says with a laugh.

"No John. My ex-submissive breaking into my new girlfriend's apartment with a gun. That's so old news." I can't help but hang my head in my hands and laugh a bit at the absurdity of it all. If this was a novel, no one would believe the plot twists my life has taken over the past month.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow evening Christian. We're out of time."

"Thank you John. See you tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8

"Hello Lydia. I'd like you to meet Anastasia Steele." I hear my voice and it sounds louder and more boisterous than is appropriate for a psychologist's office. Inside I'm dying of nerves. My fate rests in Ana's hands. And she wants to talk to Flynn. Now my fate rests in his hands too. I stare at my own hands and they look overwhelmingly empty.

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Steele. Dr. Flynn will see you now Mr. Grey. You two can go right in."

I put my arm around Ana's shoulders, trying not to grip too tightly, and usher her into Flynn's office. Flynn's sitting at his desk and the far end of the room vigorously scribbling notes in a file. I wonder who's file it is. It looks much too thin to be mine.

"Christian."

"John. You remember Anastasia."

"How could I forget? Anastasia welcome."

I stare intently at Ana, trying to read her face, but her expression is unreadable. She's biting her lip again.

"Ana, please." She murmurs and extends her hand to shake John's. We shuffle over to John's seating area. I gesture to one couch for Ana, and take a seat in the second, trying desperately to look relaxed. Inside I'm dying. I reach out and give Ana's hand a firm squeeze. See, that will show her I'm relaxed and confident, right? Nothing to hide. Fuck, Grey calm down.

"Christian has requested that you accompany him to one of our sessions. Just so you know, we treat these sessions with absolute confidentiality."

"Oh, um, I've signed an NDA," Ana mutters biting her lip, looking down at her folded hands. I feel like the floor just gave way. I'd almost forgotten about the NDA, and now I'm mortified.

"A nondisclosure agreement?" John looks at me puzzled. I breath deeply trying to stifle the crimson flush I feel overtaking my face. "You start all your relationships with women with an NDA?"

"The contractual ones, I do."

"You've had other types of relationships with women?" John chuckles.

"No." This is not how I'd imagined this session going.  
"As I thought. Well, I guess we don't have to worry about confidentiality, but may I suggest that the two of you discuss this at some point? As I understand, you're no longer entering into that type of contractual relationship." John says in his soothing shrink voice. I'm sure in his head he's dissecting me.

"Different kind of contract, hopefully." My eyes travel back to Ana. She looks nervous and small. Why does she feel so intimidated? I want her relaxed and laughing. I want to make her look like those photos, the ones I'm going to hang in our new house. God I hope she says yes.

"Ana. You'll have to forgive me. But I probably know a lot more about you than you think. Christian has been very forthcoming. An NADA? That must have shocked you."

Ana glances nervously at me. Maybe this was a bad idea. I try my best to put on my confident Christian Grey, CEO face, to assure her.

"Oh, I think the shock of that has paled into insignificance given Christian's most recent revelations." Ana says, still looking down at her hands. This is not going well.

"I'm sure." Flynn says in his soothing psychologist voice. I wonder if he practiced this in graduate school. "So, Christian, what would you like to discuss?"

"Anastasia wanted to see you. Perhaps you should ask her." John's face looks puzzled, and his eyes travel to Ana who appears to have shrunken three feet since I last looked at her. Her shoulders are closed in, her legs crossed at the ankles and her eyes averted.

"Would you be more comfortable if Christian left us for a while?" John asks.

Leave? What?

"Yes," Ana says in a barely audible whisper. Leave? LEAVE! FUCK!

"I'll be in the waiting room." And with that I'm up and out of the office, careful not to slam the door behind me. Reflexively I feel my mouth grimace.

"Hi Lydia."

"Mr. Grey." Lydia's looking intently at her computer screen. She could be arranging an Outlook calendar. But my guess is spider solitaire.

"Thank you again for squeezing us in this evening, Lydia. I know its a bit late."

"Thank Dr. Flynn, Mr. Grey. He always manages to make time for you." She says with a reassuring smile.

Maybe Flynn actually does like me. I remember back to our first meeting. I strode in, so arrogant. I've been in therapy since I was four, I told him. I just here to placate my mother. She says you focus on the future I told him. Well I don't have a future. I'm an in the moment type of guy.

I remember Flynn just sitting back in his chair, his ankle crossed over his knee, a notepad in his lap. You don't have to be here, he told me. He said I didn't have to trust him. But he told me that if I showed up to our session, he expected me to at least show him the respect to be ready to work. I was so angry when I first met Flynn. I had an anger that lived in the pit of my stomach and burned up my chest. Now that anger has been replaced by a dull nausea of fear. Fear that Ana will say no. Fear that Ana will say yes. Fear that I'll hurt her. Fear that she'll hurt me.

I stare at the three Ansel Adams photographs hanging on the wall in front of me. What is it with psychotherapists and Ansel Adams? My hands are fidgeting. To occupy them I take out Ana's gift and just roll it around in my palms. I won't open it. What is is?

Ok. its been twenty minutes. Surely they have discussed all there is to discuss by now. I laugh a little to myself. I get Twenty-four years in therapy but Ana gets twenty minutes. Well if she says yes, she has a whole lifetime to analyze me.

I firmly knock on the door announcing my arrival and walk through. Flynn is smiling and Ana looks to have regained the three feet she lost. Her shoulders have relaxed and her hands untucked.

"Welcome back, Christian."

"I think time is up, John."

"Nearly, Christian. Join us."

I sit down, this time on the couch next to Ana. Her body relaxes and her legs subtly turn towards me. This is a good sign. I place my hand on her knee. Mine!

"Did you have any other questions, Ana?" She shakes her head, once again looking at her feet.

"Christian?"

"Not today John."

"It may be beneficial if you both come again. I'm sure Ana will have more questions." Flynn says like a doctor who just diagnosed us with some complex illness. This is not reassuring. I nod my head carefully.

I look at Ana, our hands entwined. I think of how complete I feel with her, and then I think of Leila, the one I broke.

"How is she?" I ask. I hope this isn't inappropriate.

"She'll get there," Flynn says reassuringly.

"Good. Keep me updated of her progress."

"I will."

And with that, we are done. I don't know if this was a success, or the biggest mistake of my life. I close my eyes briefly and visualize what Flynn taught me. Ana in the car, giggling. Her hair in her face. I'm smiling. We pull up to the house. I reminded of that song Carrick always loved. Our house. Two cats in the yard. Life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy 'cause of Ana.

"Should we go celebrate your promotion?"


	9. Chapter 9

It's been four days since Ana said yes. Ana and I have barely left Escala. Hell, we've barely left the bedroom. I convinced Ana to take the week off of work, and I've managed to run Grey House with my Blackberry and laptop. For four glorious days we've lounged in bed, rolled into the bath or shower, and then back to bed again, leaving each other arms long enough to eat Mrs. Jones' delicious meals and then return back to bed. We've read books, listened to music, and talked...and talked...and talked. But now it's Wednesday, and it's time to go back to reality.

"Hello, Christian." John says emphasizing the "O" like he's calling from the deck of a ship.

"I'm to be married!" John of course already knows this, but I just like to hear myself say the words, and I've communicated with so few people the past four days, that I'm determined to say the words out loud at any appropriate opportunity. Or inappropriate opportunity. I told the barista this morning before ordering my espresso. He looked at me puzzled for a moment and I could tell he was racking his brain to remember how to make the "I'm to be married, one espresso, to go."

"So I hear, Christian. I have to say, I'm so happy for you. But I'm a bit jealous, as Ana has made more progress with you in two months than I have in two years." John laughs. I know he's kidding. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to tell John just how much he has helped me. Not today.

"I don't know if you overheard anything that was happening at the party. But my mom actually found out about me and Elena."

"I had heard what sounded like raised voices coming from the other part of the house. Rhian and I were in a conversation with your business partner, so I couldn't really make out the fuss. The rest of the party didn't really notice."

"That's good," I mumble. For a moment my mind is flooded with a picture of Elena. Poor Elena, soaked in alcohol, looking quite the shrew, with her disheveled hair and ruined blouse.

"Do you want to fill me in on what happened?" John gently coaxes.

"I guess Elena cornered Ana and berated her about not being what I need. And Ana, bless her heart, threw her lemon martini on the poor woman." I pause for a moment and smile a private smile remembering Ana's tenacity. To think I ever pegged that girl as a submissive. "That's when I walked in on the whole sorry situation. Elena and I got into it for a minute, and well, that's when my mom walked in."

"That sounds pretty overwhelming."

"Yes." I say, looking out through the window. I know that point of therapy is to talk, but I honestly don't know what to say.

"How did that make you feel?" John asks, with a little grin. He knows I hate that cliche but ever effective question.

"It's made my engagement a little bittersweet, because my life is opening up an expanding in ways I could never have dreamed. But I'm losing something, and someone, that was very dear to me. I never imagined something as wonderful as getting married would happen to me, and not have Elena to share it with."

"She was a very important person to you?"

"She was everything, for a very long time." My chest constricts as I remember dancing with Elena in her living room. She never once said she loved me, but dancing with her was the one time I felt her embrace and nurture me.

"For a long time, Elena was the only person I thought could truly understand me. She was the only person I let in. She was my only friend. But now I feel like our whole relationship was a lie. A sham. She never wanted what was best for me, like a true friend."

John just stares at me with a look of gentle support, quietly inviting me to say more.

"In a way, I suppose its good that we broke off our friendship though. Ana was never comfortable with it, and I always felt like I was being pulled in two directions never being able to make either of them happy."

"What do you want Christian? Where do you fit into all of this?" John asks.

"Huh?" I have no idea what he means.

"Well, it's occurred to me that we've discussed what Ana wants, and what Elena wants. But what was your hope for the whole situation?"

John's question is a revelation. It never crossed my mind that I should have my own hopes for how I want to navigate my relationship with Elena and Ana.

"I don't know. I feel like I'm supposed to say that wanted Ana and Elena to get along and we could have all been friends. But that's not really what I wanted. I think I wanted Elena to love me enough to let me go. It sounds trite. I have this new beginning with Ana, and it feels like a new door is opening. I used to think I wanted Ana to join me in my old life. Now I feel like we're starting this new life together, and I just want Elena to love me enough let me go into this new life on my own."

"Do you think Elena loves you?" John says in a low, hypnotic voice. I'm so lost in my own thought, I can barely see John. I just hear his voice coming from what seems like a dark corner of the room.

"She says love is for fools." I laugh remembering Elena's tirade at the party. The way she spit out the word love like it was a curse word. "But I think on some level she does. And on some level I love her. I never really understood that until I had Ana to compare it to. I never really got my feelings for anyone else. But now that I know what it is to be in love, I recognize that there are many different kinds of love, and I think I did love Elena in a certain way."

"How does it feel, now that Grace knows about the affair?"

"I feel liberated." John stares at me impassively. I know its my invitation to keep talking. "I think part of me always worried that Grace would just cut me off if she knew the real me. I had this part of myself, this part of my life that I was so worried if she found out she would..."

"Abandon you?" John says with a smug grin, like he's been waiting two years to finally say that.

"I never thought of it that way. But, yes, guess I was afraid to let Grace mother me. I was afraid if I let her in, she'd see something in me, and well...I just couldn't risk it."

"Christian, I think this is a really, really important point for us to focus on. I know intellectually you know that your birth mother's limitations and challenges were not your fault. But on an emotional level, the rejection, or perceived rejection of a mother, it's probably the most profound psychological wound anyone could ever suffer."

I love when John gets into professor mode. I can sit back and catch my breath from this emotional marathon I've been running. Leaning back in the couch, I feign ignorance just so he'll keep going.

"So it makes perfect sense, Christian, that you would erect a barrier between yourself and Grace. But now that that wall has been demolished, how does it feel?"

"I don't know. She's pretty fucking mad at me right now. But she's still my mom. I guess in a way its reassuring. I always felt like I was imperfect, in this perfect family. It's reassuring, knowing I can fail, and they'll still be there." I pause for a moment and catch sight of a weird ink blot painting hanging on John's wall. It's not a Rorschach blot, but definitely Rorschach inspired. John catches me glancing at it. It's obvious that it resembles a bug.

"What do you see?" John asks with a mischievous grin.

I stare at it some more, until my eyes get blurry. Finally, I blink and take a deep breath. Strangely, an image comes to mind. "I see a room. A nursery, with a crib. There's a boy and he's curled up in the crib. He's about two, tucked under a blanket, his thumb safely encased in his mouth. I'm sitting at the foot of the crib reading." I remember Carrick reading me to me. The Lorax, was my favorite. Even though I never talked, I loved language, and Dr. Seuss was the best. _And deep in the grickle-grass, some people say, if you look deep enough you can still see today, Where the Lorax once stood, As long as it could..._

"Christian, I'm really sorry we're out of time, because I'd love to hear more about this. Perhaps we'll come back to the painting next week."

"Perhaps, John." I give him a sly wink.

I saunter out through the waiting room, where John's next appointment is waiting. Lydia looks up from her game of spider-solitaire and smiles.

"Have a good day Mr. Grey."

"I'm to be married!" I had to say it at least one more time today.  
**  
**


	10. Chapter 10

"Christian, what's wrong?"

"John, you are very perceptive. Has anyone ever told you, you should think about going into psychotherapy." I try in vain to deflect John's interrogation with dry sarcasm. I just don't feel like talking today. But I'm here. And since I'm here I might as well talk about something. I wish John would let me get away with discussing the Mariners, but he's no pushover. "It's just all this wedding planning. It's a bit much."

"Well you're pouting Christian. Did something specific happen?"

"Ana and I just got into this little fight." Actually, not so little, but I don't want to admit that we had a real fight. You're not supposed to fight when you're blissfully in love. "I...I was just hoping that she would promise to obey me...you know in the wedding vows. But she feels pretty strongly about now including that in the vows. We had a fight..." My voice trails off as I notice that John is rolling his eyes and chuckling. He obviously doesn't know what I do to people who roll their eyes at me. "Are you laughing at me, John?"

"Christian, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh. Really I apologize. It's just...did you really want Ana to promise to obey you?" John says incredulously. I can tell he's biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. His face is such a twisted mess, that I can't help but laugh too.

"Well, yes. Yes, John, I did want Ana to promise to obey me." I'm laughing now too, realizing the ridiculousness of it. John is the only person who can call me out on my bullshit.

"Christian, it's not the 17th century." We're both laughing now. It feels so good to laugh, and its only now I realize the just how much tension I had been holding onto. "What is it about obeying, that promise that was so important to you?"

"I don't know John. I just always had this vision of my wedding day. In my head, I'd always imagined that my wife would promise to obey me. I know it's silly, but it was just something I was holding on to. I think when Ana said no, it felt like a rejection."

"It really affected you?"

"Yes. I had a really terrible nightmare." Beads of sweat form on my brow as I remember my nightmare from the previous evening.

"What was your nightmare about?" John asks, his tone changing now from mocking to soothing.

"Same as usual. My birth mother is asleep on the floor. I think she's asleep. She's cold, she won't wake up. I'm hungry."

"So what is it about Ana obeying, or not obeying you rather, that brings up memories of your birth mother?"

"I don't know John. I think I just worry that I won't be able to keep Ana safe, if she doesn't obey me. I just worry that I can't keep her from..." Dying. Ana dying is my biggest fear, but I can't even bring the words to my mouth. It just sticks in the back of my throat. John seems to understand.

"I know, Christian. I know." John says with a quiet recognition in his voice. He knows when to push me, and he knows when to back off.

"I suppose I should apologize to Ana when I get home tonight."

"Yes Christian. If you intend to stay married, learning to apologize is an invaluable skill," John says, glancing at the picture of Rhian sitting on his desk. I can't imagine what John would ever have to apologize for, but by the look in his eye, I can tell he speaks from experience. "So what else has been bothering you?"

"My father want's Ana to sign a prenup."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Fucking-A John, what is with that question. So annoying! How does it make me feel?

"How would it make YOU feel?" John sits in silence, staring at me. His eyes imploring me to say more. "Sorry, John. That outburst was probably intended for Carrick. It makes me feel like my family doesn't trust Ana, and doesn't trust my decisions. It makes me feel like they want me to erect this boundary between Ana and I, when all I want to to completely meld with her. Become one unit, husband and wife. I can't wait for Ana to be Mrs. Grey, for everything that's mine to be her's. And then Carrick goes and suggests I put up this barrier between us. It just doesn't seem right."

"Christian, I think it might be useful for you to think about how to maintain individual autonomy in an intimate relationship, you've gone from one extreme of not allowing women to sleep in your bed, or look you in the eye, to wanting to be completely enmeshed with Ana. Part of that is the natural part of the infatuation stage of romance. But enmeshment is hardly sustainable."

"But I want Ana's world to begin and end with me." As I say the words I realize I'm pouting like a child having a tantrum. John chuckles, like he's expecting me to stomp my feet and thrust my fists.

"I know you feel like that now, Christian. And as I said, you're in the attachment state of love right now, and what you're feeling is very normal. Attachment is what enables us to form tight bonds with our significant other. But left unchecked, it can fuel manipulation and in some cases abuse. Attachment can create a state of codependency. I'd like you to think about eventually becoming what therapists call differentiated."

I've totally zoned out. I heard codependent and manipulation, but not much else. I look at John, bewildered.

"Differentiation allows you to let go of entanglement and maintain autonomy in an intimate relationship."

"But I want to be entangled," I murmur. John laughs again.

"I know you feel like that now Christian. But trust me, neither you nor Ana can sustain codependency for a lifetime. We're about out of time. I supposed the next time I see you, you will be walking down the aisle?"

"That's right." And for a moment I forget everything- The petty squabbles over obeying, my father's audacity with the prenup. All I see is Ana, walking down an aisle of rose petals. I love her, from the first day I saw her, on the good days and the bad days, yesterday and today. For all eternity, until the world quits spinning and nothing else matters.


	11. Chapter 11

The late afternoon sun pours through Dr. Flynn's picture windows casting shadows over the Persian rug that anchors his seating area. August is the only month in Seattle that you can rely on the sunshine. It taunts and teases me, mocks me. I've always hated August. Its been four weeks since I last saw John, longer than I've ever gone without seeing him, but it feels like I've been away for eternity. So much has happened in the past month. The wedding, the honeymoon, of course. In some compartment of the recesses on my mind I had envisioned this session as our last. This would be my happy ending, where John could set me free into the world a happily married well adjusted man. I supposed men aren't suppose to think of marriage in such storybooks terms, and god knows I was not one for fairy tales. In my storybook though, the happy ending includes the wife taking her husbands name.

"Welcome back Christian. It's been so boring without you. I thought you'd be more tan when you returned," he says with a wink.

"I think I'm just pale from the argument Ana and I just had." I feel the corners of my mouth sink into a pout. It feels odd to feel bad about getting your way. When I left Ana's office she agreed to change her name at work, but for some reason, I still feel bad. I don't understand.

John smirks and leans back into his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. That chair must be so well worn to the contours of his body by now. He spends all day sitting in the one little spot. "What was the fight about Christian?"

"She didn't want to change her name at work. She wanted to keep Ana Steele for professional purposes. And I of course charged into her office and completely manipulated her into doing what I wanted her to do, and she finally capitulated."

I sigh a long exhale. A cool cleansing yogic breath, the type Claude taught me when he convinced me to add some downward dogs to my workout routine. It feels good to exhale.

"I don't understand, getting people to do what I want them to do used to make me happy. That was my whole_ joie de vivre,_ exerting my will over people. Now I just end up feeling bad about myself."

"Why do you feel bad?" John says.

"I feel unsatisfied. I feel like I didn't really tell Ana how I felt. I just created this artifice, this persona, that waltzed in and strong-armed her into doing what I wanted. And I thought it would make me feel close to her but instead I feel so far away from her right now."

"What would you have told Ana, if you were really being honest with her? What would you have said?"

The sun shifts readjusting its rays, re configuring the shadows cast throughout John's office. The shifting light shines on a stack of books on John's desk. All relationship books. One is called "Hold me tight." What an odd name for a relationship book.

"I would have told her that I felt rejected, when she said she wanted to keep her name at work. When I sent an e-mail to Anastasia Grey, and it bounced back, a flood of scary thought filled my head. She's leaving you, she's ashamed of you, she regrets marrying you. Intellectually I know there's nothing wrong with her keeping her maiden name professionally. My mother did, and I have no doubt that she loves my father any less because her patients know her as Doctor Trevelyn. I just had this vision, though, of her being Ana Grey, and everyone knowing that when they said her name she was married to Christian Grey."

"And that's important to you because..."

I pause. I know this is the part where John's prompt is suppose to lead me to some deeper understanding of myself. I feel so exhausted already, I just don't know if I can go any deeper.

"It's important because it feels like a public affirmation of her love, and in turn, an affirmation that I'm in fact loveable to begin with."

"You don't feel loveable?" John gives me his intrigued, I'm a psychotherapist look. I just don't believe after all this time anything I say in here could be that interesting.

"John, we've been over this. You know I don't feel loveable."

"What specific actions would Ana have to take in order for you to feel secure in her love for you? Do you think that he changing her professional name would make you feel more secure?"

I think for a moment about John's question. I actually do think taking my name would make me feel more secure. Its a silly little gesture, but it means a lot to me. "Yes. I actually think it would. I don't know why, but its just something that's important to me. I guess, I just don't feel entitled to ask her for it. So instead I just steamroll into her office and completely manipulate her."

"That seems easier to do than just asking her?"

"Its what I know. But what I know is working less and less for me."

"How so?" John asks.

I think back to walking through Saint-Paul-De-Vence. Ana's delicate finger clasped in mine, and the faint red welt around her wrist from where the handcuff bit into her skin.

"When we were in France, we, well we had a lot of sex on the honeymoon. Not just in Monte Carlo..." I don't know why I suddenly feel myself stuttering. I've told John all about all sorts of sexual exploits much more shocking than what I've done with Ana. Hell, couples out in the suburbs use handcuffs. O.k. maybe not as well as I use them, but still. "But I used some handcuffs on Ana, and they left a mark. They didn't hurt her. She said she enjoyed it. But I felt so awful seeing those marks. I don't understand. When I used to see the marks on my partners after playing, it was a turn on. I felt a sense of pride almost. I just don't understand why I feel so differently with Ana. I mean sexually. I know why I feel different about the other stuff in our relationship. Its because I love her. But guess I thought that loving her wouldn't change doing all the things I like to do to women, or at least I thought I liked to do..."

I hang my head in my hands. My hair is too long. I must tell Andrea to make me an appointment for a haircut. Shit I can't go to Elena's salon anymore.

"I can see that this is really making you question your identity, Christian."

I look up at John, puzzled.

"You see. I think your self-perception, your concept of your own identity, for a long time has been intertwined with your sexual identity. And for a while it was a coping mechanism that worked for you, and you achieved some great successes in life, probably because you had this coping mechanism that worked so well..."

John is in teacher mode again. I almost expect him to wheel out a blackboard and start drawing a diagram. But he is right, and I lean in to listen closer.

"You must not think of your past relationships as failures Christian, because they enabled you to achieve some great personal and professional successes. However, those coping mechanisms just aren't working for the goals you want to achieve in this stage in your life. So, with that in mind, why do you think you felt bad about seeing Ana's cuff marks? Because you said she enjoyed playing and that you didn't hurt her."

I look out the window again to see the orange glow of the setting sun. The neon signs in Pikes Market are starting to come to life. "I think, I don't know. I still really struggle with not being able to punish Ana. I know punishments are a hard limit for her. She doesn't mind playing, but she doesn't like punishment. But its hard for me because the whole talking things out and resolving issues without spanking or caning is still really new for me. And its hard. I'm not good at expressing myself through words. Hell, I didn't talk at all for many years of my childhood. It's a miracle I'm verbal at all. So I guess, when I cuffed Ana, it was a bit of a punishment in my mind. We had had a little argument. She did something that pissed me off, and instead of talking about it, we had sex. And I wanted to be rough with her. But I'm sure if she knew that I wanted to be rough because I was angry with her, she would have enjoyed it less. And I think that's why I felt guilty. Seeing the welts. I felt like I lied to Ana, and that made me feel guilty."

"Very good Christian. Why do you think Ana hates punishment so much?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask her?"

John glances at the clock, determining whether we have enough time left for me to reach his intended insight on my own, or whether he should clue me in on the moral or the story. He opts for the latter.

"Well, you said earlier that when you do things that make you feel farther away from Ana, when you use artifice and manipulation, rather than exposing your true vulnerabilities, you end up feeling more distant and that makes you feel bad."

"I think I see what you're getting at. When I punish Ana, she feels distant from me. I guess I feel distant from her too."

"Sex, for most people, Christian, is a way to connect on a deep level. You're literally exposed and at your most vulnerable. So by using sex as punishment, it really flips it on its head. And it probably not the actual physical acts that you feel guilty about, especially if, as you say, you didn't hurt Ana and she enjoyed it. But I think what you were feeling was a guilt and sadness even at doing something that created more distance between you and Ana, rather than closeness."

"I crave intimacy with Ana. When we have sex, its like I can't get close enough. I can't get far enough inside to feel close enough. I just hate myself when I do things that create distance between us."

John gives me that look that says we're about out of time. "I know, Christian. But its a learning curve. Marriage is a constant learning process. If you stop learning, that's when the marriage starts to die. So now that you're back, are we planning on resuming our regular schedule?"

"I'll have to have Andrea check my calendar, but yes, I think so. I'm really glad to be back John."

"I'm glad you're back too Christian." And with that our session in over. I stretch my arms and rise from the soft cushions of John's sofa, ready to catch the last moments of the day's sunshine.


	12. Chapter 12

It's a good day, Christian. It's a good day. You're having a good day. You've had a wonderful weekend in Aspen, flirty e-mails with Ana this morning. I keep repeating this in my head, like a mantra, as I walk into John's office for my 11:00 a.m. appointment. All objective evidence indicates that I should be ok. That I am ok. I'm ok. I feel like I've had a boulder in the pit of my stomach ever since Friday. Ever since Ana safe worded.

"Christian have a seat," John says getting up from his chair. "I just need to return a page and then I'll be right back."

John exits his office before I can say anything. As soon as the door closes the dam bursts. My head is in my hand, my throat constricting. I can't breath. First my lip starts to quiver, and then a flood of wetness seeps from my eyes. I keep trying to catch my breath but I feel like I'm drowning. I don't hear the door open when John returns, but I feel his hand touch my shoulder and place a box of tissues next to me on the couch. He places them so they touch my leg, letting me know where they are without disturbing me.

We sit in silence, as I cry. John doesn't look bored or worried. It's as if he knows I have to go through this wave of emotion on my own, and he can only sit there and provide gentle support and safety. Finally ten minutes later I let out the last whimper, and blow my nose. I look up and see John's face, and suddenly I start laughing. John's face breaks into a smirk as he lets me ride this wave of catharsis. Finally the laughter subsides.

"Feeling better?" John asks.

"Actually, I do. I feel like I just ran a marathon."

"It's the endorphins," John says. "Chemically, endorphins are a lot like morphine, and both laughing and crying stimulate the release of them."

"I feel like I had been holding that in all weekend. I guess subconsciously I was waiting to get here to just let it out."

"I was worried about you," John says. Of course he's talking about the break in. It's been all over the news. "Do you want to talk about it?" he says. It's more a statement than a question. I pause for a moment inhaling deeply, exhaling the final molecules of tension.

"Ana never does what she's told. She told me she was going to go straight home from work but instead she went to a bar, to Zig Zag, with her friend Kate. I got so angry."

"What did the anger feel like?" John asks.

"It felt like my skin was tightening on my body to the point where it was going to squeeze my insides out. It felt like everything was pulling so tight, I couldn't escape. Like I was going to suffocate."

I pause for a moment, but John just stares at me. We sit in silence.

"I got on a plane and came back, I was so angry. When I landed I found out that Hyde had broken into my home."

"And how did that make you feel?"

Oh for christ sake. Is he for real, how did it make me fucking feel. I show him how I fucking felt. "Angry. Sheer burning rage."

John is silent, willing me to keep going. "I didn't deal with it so well. I tried to punish Ana, and, well, I fucked up. I just fucked up. I think she forgives me. I pray she does."

"How did you try to punish Ana?"

I suddenly feel so embarrassed. Less than five months ago I was telling John all about a hot scene with Susanna. I had her suspended from the ceiling and caned her with a plug in her butt and a gag in her mouth. I told John every gory detail without flinching. I just feel so weird telling him about Ana.

"Christian?"

"I'm sorry John. It's just, I don't know why I get embarrassed talking about this stuff."

"So you tried to punish Ana in the bedroom, or the playroom, in your case." John says.

"How else would I punish her?"

"Christian, we can emotionally punish our partners without laying a hand on them. How exactly did you punish Ana. Were there any physical injuries?"

"No No No. It was nothing like that. I just," I sigh and run my hand through my hair, unable to find adequate words to express myself. "We got in a really big fight. Well it was more like a cold war. When I got back from New York I was burning with rage and I just shut down, and I guess I reverted to my old coping mechanism. I didn't hurt Ana, but I wanted to. I wanted to cane her so bad. In my own stupid thought process, I convinced myself that physical pain was off limits, but other forms of erotic punishment were ok. So I decided on orgasm denial. She safe worded. It was a disaster."

"I'm sorry Christian, you're going to have to enlighten me here. Safe worded?"

I laugh. I've never had to explain safe words to John. None of previous partners ever had to use them.

"It's a code word, that says the scene, the sexual act, has to stop immediately. I always told myself that I had failed as a Dominant if any of my partners had to use safe words. As Dominant it was my job to read their signals, gauge their limits."

"But you're not Ana's dominant. And she's not your submissive," John says.

"I know. I guess the fear of losing Ana, of something happening to her, was just overwhelming. I fell back on what I knew."

"So what exactly happened?" John asks. I can't tell if he wants a recitation of the details for my benefit or his own. Seeing my reluctance he continues. "Christian I wouldn't ask you to verbalize it if I didn't think it was important. Sometimes we build thoughts up in our head and replay them on a loop. They seem a lot worse when they're just in our head, but if we say them, they don't seem so scary."

"I tied her up and blindfolded her. And I used a vibrator to bring her to the brink over and over again and then just before I knew she was going to climax, I removed contact so she was left wanting."

"I see," John says.

"I felt terrible about myself. I still do."

"Do you think Ana forgives you?" John asks.

"I do. In fact I know she does. I've never felt more certain of her love."

"Than the question is, Christian, can you forgive yourself?"

I can see the clock behind John's desk. Our time is almost up, and I opt to wait John out. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. I'm certainly not going to commit to forgiving myself today. No I think I'll prolong the self-loathing just a little bit longer.

"Well Christian we're out of time."

"Laters John." I walk out of John's office, down the elevator, and into Taylor's waiting car. Its a good day, Christian. It's a good day. You're having a good day.


End file.
